Yae, she's difficult,
drags you by your feet, strangles you,
a light between the clouds wouldn't help,
down here in detritus, covered in kelp.

No name, no name can be spoken,
that would capture the terror, the pride and the error,
of a possession bursted, and also of a soft arrow miss'd.

Sweetling, she is difficult,
Charybdis is beyond hunger,
but better to be twisted, wet, and spun,
as long as she sinks your mind til it's hung.